


Battle of Wills

by Arya90s



Category: Marvel (Comics), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:27:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24591538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arya90s/pseuds/Arya90s
Summary: Her name is Phoenix, and she's real.
Relationships: Jean Grey & Phoenix, Jean Grey & Rachel Summers & Scott Summers, Jean Grey/Scott Summers
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	1. Mindtrap

**Author's Note:**

> The story is mainly AU, with additional scenes from the comics and movies. 
> 
> English is not my mother tongue. I apologize for any possible mistakes in the language that may occur. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel comics/movies/movie posters. I own nothing of the Dark Phoenix story or it's characters.

_Tic, tic_. The clock’s sound, while irritated others, gave Jean a bizarre sense of tranquility. Her muscles started to relax and the young mutant allowed its noise to momentarily dominate her thoughts. Any distraction was welcomed, provided that it kept the _voice_ away.

“Jean, I would like to speak again about these voices, if you don’t mind”, said with her always sweet voice the good doctor Lynn.

Jean resisted rolling her eyes, but not without showing her annoyance. “Be my guest. Though we’ve gone through the “other voices” topic a handful of times. It’s solved. They are the result of the manifestation of telepathy, one of my mutations. I can control them now. They belong to real people. They don’t bother me anymore like they used to. Same cannot be said for the _one_ voice, the manifestation of which remains a mystery to me”

“Of course,” the good doctor insisted, “though I have a suspicion that these voices, and the fact that they tortured you for so long before you could trace their origins, led to this new, dominant voice”

Lynn’s serene voice was getting maddeningly annoying by now. Jean was adamant. “No, it’s not the mutation. Neither the telepathy, nor the telekinesis. It’s something… else. Something much bigger, I suspect, connected with something I have yet to distinguish. Maybe with me. Sometimes it feels like she’s an entirely different person, a different mind. Though, not always…”

The doctor raised an eyebrow. “She?”

 _At last, a reaction!_ “Well, I call her a “she”, as she is within my female body”.

Lynn seemed skeptical. “Does she have a name?”

Jean froze and stared stupidly for a moment. “Excuse me?”

“If you state that she is a different person - even if she truly is a secondary personality of yours - I believe she has introduced herself?” Lynn’s voice was always calm and kind, despite the most bizarre topics she had to talk about with her patients. Jean suspected the high salary helped. 

The young mutant became wary. She didn’t wish to alienate her therapist. The last time she talked about _her_ with her previous doctor, things ended badly. Quite tragically, actually. She shivered at the memory. But professor Xavier had already made Lynn privy to that particular situation, and somehow, she felt more at ease now.   
“Phoenix”, she answered quietly. “She claims her name is Phoenix”. Jean was relieved to finally talk about her. It was the first time Lynn allowed a conversation concerning the disturbing voice of Phoenix.

“Ah, the mythical bird from Greek and Roman legends. A firebird, associated with the sun, it is believed it obtains new life by arising from the ashes of its predecessor, if I recall. One of the most infamous legends. I also recall that you are into literature and mythology, Jean. Perhaps her claiming that particular name has something to do with your subconscious. That, or our little friend has an avid imagination”. Despite her words, there was not mockery detected in Lynn’s voice or words.

Jean jerked almost violently at the word “little”. She hoped _she_ didn’t notice. She dreaded it. She also doubted Phoenix was really just a legend anymore. She felt entirely real to her.

When Jean didn’t answer, the doctor pressed for insight. “Is she friendly? Antipathetic?”

“To me?”

Lynn’s eyes had the slightest twitch. “Let’s start from you.”

“She’s bizarre. She’s both, though not exactly cruel. You know, I was rather fond of her when I was little. As was she. It seems to me now that she’s irritated and angry, but she never blames me. She’s… hungry”. Jean’s heart started beating rapidly but she tried to succumb her sudden terror. Any intense emotion could wake _her_ again, despite the drugs. Her mind turned into a battlefield when _she_ was awake, and she rather enjoyed its short-lived peacefulness for the time being. Like some kind of a truce, though not exactly fair for both sides. 

“Hungry for what?”

“Hungry for power. Hungry to destroy. And this hunger is burning, like the true firebird the legends claim that she is. She’s dangerous, and I fear what I could do, if she takes the upper hand and decides to use me for her means. Or, worse, if she took complete control over my mind, erasing me from my very existence!” Jean became more and more agitated, and closed her eyes instinctively. Phoenix was starting to make faint caresses to her subconscious from the depths of the drugs. Jean willed her and her agitation away.

From the back of her desk Lynn widened ever so slightly her eyes at the redhead’s confession. “Has she ever come close to take you over? Is she that strong, even under the influence of the drugs?”

Jeaned tried to concentrate once more. “She’s getting angry with the drugs, in addition with her longtime lockdown. And when she’s angry, she’s determined. And an over determined individual becomes dangerously powerful” Jean finished. Lynn, the ever-adept therapist, looked impassive. 

“You’re scared of her. Do you show that to her?”

Jean shrugged. “It’s inevitable.”

“Well, to tell you the truth, I’d already come to the conclusion that we’re dealing here with “Schizoaffective Disorder”. Your illusions, the _other’s_ mania, the former voices along with an additional research of my own led me to this ‘outcome’. I meant to say that if perhaps we borrowed elements approximate to the former voices situation – which is directly connected with the mind – then, we would find a solution to our current predicament faster-”

“ _I_ say that if perhaps you would stop researching human data and started for once look into _mutant_ ones, then our job would have been finished yesterday.” Jean’s voice took an icy turn. She flinched at her doctor’s words. She couldn’t get rid of the memory when her father called her situation an illness. “You, a scientist, can’t possibly expect a method to have the exact same results to both a home superior and a homo sapiens!” Four months under intensive care and the voice not only hadn’t faded in the slightest, but seemed to have grown roots inside her brain.

Unsurprisingly, Lynn did not react at Jean’s tone and interruption at all. She continued with the same serenity that embraced her every word since day one. “I started, though, to think otherwise. You’re an Omega level mutant, and you claim that Phoenix is not connected with your mutations. If that was true, you wouldn’t be so scared of her. You wouldn’t feel powerless before her. If she’s able to take over your mind completely, then she’s able to take over your mutations. _Her_ mutations, might I add.”

Jean’s heart beat painfully inside her chest for the second time today. “What do you want to say?”

“Jean, Phoenix is you. As you’re aware, I’ve consulted with Professor Xavier about this. Your mind is, admittedly, one of the most powerful ones in recent existence. My theory in specific: It’s possible that, given your omega level powers, your mind was unable to handle it, hence creating a second personality, one that is responsible for your powers while you are for your mind and actions. Your own brain created Phoenix as a means to protect you, to allow you to function… normally. And it did a fairly good job, at first. You said you were fond of her when you were little. You also once said, and I quote, ‘she was not even noticeable most of the times’, correct?”

Jean nodded. “Yes. We were… attached to each other. Like best friends. I usually presented her as my imaginary friend to my parents. And she was mostly hushed when I was in public. Sometimes it was like she didn’t even exist, she was –”

“Your mutation”, Lynn finished for her. “Phoenix is your mutation”.

 _She always was_ aware _Phoenix was her imaginary friend, maybe that’s what should have triggered them_ , the doctor mused. But who pays small children real attention?


	2. The Wrongs of the Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There is a disturbing death scene at the beginning and one at the end of the chapter. Read at your own risk.  
> English is not my mother tongue. I strongly apologize if there are too many mistakes.  
> Disclaimer: I own nothing, of course.

_“Jean, baby, you really need to try making at least one friend. Not as a substitute of Annie, of course, but-”_

_“I have a friend! Well, sort of. I mean… she’s not in existence, not like I would want her to…”_

_“Sara has imaginary friends!” little Jean yelled mockingly and pointed at her sister. “Ha! Now, you’re JUST like me!”_

_“You should open up to your friends, little firebird. Even to… this little girl you tell us you hang around all the time, if that helps” her father smiled fondly at her, before turning to her two siblings climbing trees in the distance._

_“Oh, I do, but what’s the point in having silent conversations that are not really there?” But in reality, her father’s attention was not really there…_

_“What are you playing, darling?”_

_“Mom, be quiet! **I’m** trying to play Hide and Seek!”_

_“Oh! With Phoenix?”_

_“She’s a **firebird,** mom. And it’s rather difficult playing anything with her when all she can do is whispering and bringing us headaches –”_

_“Oh, she is, isn’t she? A firebird? I love what you did with her name, darling! Just like you, our unique little firebird. Always so creative, my baby.”_

Hints were everywhere, their little girl always serving them in plates in before them but they always treated them like a food gone cold, not so tasty anymore, _indifferent._

And, when finally, her mutation came up, Phoenix was justified as a distraction a little child created for themselves in order to get away from the ongoing voices and trauma. Or, maybe Phoenix was one of these voices. Her hints where nowhere to be seen, never. Why ever pay attention to a childish mind who only speaks the truth and sees between the lines? Why, aren’t children the purest beings of this earthly world that tend to state the facts, never holding back? Well, apparently not if the adults have a say on this.

Hints or not, Phoenix was still innocent back then. The very core of Jean’s mind and power, never dangerous. A protective shield created by her own brain to keep her powers in check. Because human beings’ brain is something extraordinary, the very thing that differentiates humankind from all the other living beings.

But hardly one knows what the mind of an Omega level mutant is capable of, and Phoenix was right there to show them. Because the firebird is not innocent anymore. She’s _burning,_ burning with _rage,_ and _can’t wait_ to unleash her lava on all those who dared to arrogantly play with her fire. The beast was awoken, and not even the oceans combined could put out its roaring blaze.

* * *

It is ironic. That terrible day when she’d lost a friend, she gained a new one in the process.

It is said that bad things don’t happen at daylight. Not under the reassuring bright light of the sun. Yet, the most terrifying moment of Jean’s childhood happened on late morning, on a _Saturday,_ under the sun’s watchful eye and in front of Jean’s beloved home.

Aside her four siblings, Jean had one more person she could count as a friend. A close one, that is. But on Saturdays none of her siblings wished to wake in the morning just to _play._ Really, silly girl. While lost in her books, Annie knocked at the Grey’s home, looking for Jean. The day was wonderful, other children had already roamed in the streets to play and didn’t Jean just _ached_ to use her new Frisbee. Her oldest brother, Roger, liked to tease her about that. _‘Are you a dog Jean? Really, a firebird, or a dog. You can’t have it all. Pick one. Or I’ll pick one for you, and it will be just the right one’._ But Annie enjoyed playing the Frisbee with Jean, she didn’t mind that at all. She was her friend.

The little redhead and Annie were laughing and laughing, throwing the Frisbee as far away as they could, as high as they could, in a silent competition between them. Annie talked about her recent trip with her family to the capital, about the enormous - in her little eyes - White House, about how she planned acing all of her subjects at school in order to get the chance to live there one day, and-

Everything happened so fast. In Jean’s mind, the scene played out faster even that light speed. A big grey, _awful_ car turned around the corner, and while Jean considered that the car’s speed was seemingly faster than the appropriate, and while she was ready to yell at Annie to step away, her friend’s body was already in the air, flying far away from Jean’s spot and landed with a terrible thud, a sound that would haunt Jean’s dreams for years. Annie was trying to catch the Frisbee, didn’t pay attention to the car. Jean, utterly shocked run to her friend’s side and crouched beside her. She desperately grabbed Annie’s hand, squeezing it hard and prepared to yell for help. The car was nowhere to be seen. There was blood surrounding her friend. Annie’s eyes were closed, but she was still alive, Jean knew. She could _feel_ her-

Was it possible for small children to have a cardiac arrest? Because Jean was pretty certain that that’s what was happening to her. Her heart clenched, her breathing became hard, so hard that Jean began chocking. Her lungs refused to cooperate, as they seemed to struggle for air themselves. Something was pulling her, something that made her stomach drop, and her eyes closed without her will. She felt her mind opening, extending and, if possible, inviting. Something entered her thoughts, something terrible because she was _dying._ She felt all her limps weak, couldn’t move, couldn’t even open her eyes. It was terrible and it was peaceful, it was… Annie. All of her senses were directed at her friend’s small form, wrapped around her, embraced her. Annie was dying, and Jean was dying with her. Or so she felt. Everything around her seemed to vanish, it was only her and Annie inside her mind. Annie’s thoughts were incoherent, slowly fading, and Jean couldn’t stop reaching out to her. She clung to her mental existence like her life depended on it, and couldn’t move. Her thoughts were serene but her breathing was also slowly fading and Jean couldn’t take it anymore. She fought and fought, to snap out of it, to push Annie out of her mind. She was dying.

Jean put out a terrible scream, one that silenced all the nearby voices at once. There were people running to her, there were screams and yelling, so much yelling, but to Jean were like a far, throbbing noise. Her attention was on Annie.

_'Shut down your thoughts and focus on your breathing.'_

That voice, Jean could hear it clearer than any other.

_‘Focus Jean, try to breath. Regain control. I’ll help you.’_

Jean screamed again, though she didn’t feel nor hear her voice.

_‘Impressive. So much power at such a tender age. Do it Jean.’_

…

_‘Jean-’_

A set or arms pulled her by her upper arms with force, lifted her from the ground and carried her to the opposite sidewalk. Annie’s presence was sharply cut from her mind and another, gentler entered it. It cleared her brain and willed her to open her eyes. Jean obeyed, and looked right up to a bald man who had the kindest eyes Jean had ever seen. They calmed her. The spoke to her.

“Jean? Now, Jean, I want you to calm down. I want you to concentrate on me, and only me, can you do that? Can you sense my presence inside your mind?”

The good man had also the kindest voice Jean had ever heard. She wondered whether it was his voice that spoke to her earlier. She nodded.

“What do you mean? You know what-”

“Yes, Jean, I know exactly what happened. I will explain everything in due time. How’s your breathing?”

Jean realized she could breath again. Whatever that bald man did, it had succeeded. She nodded once more.

“Right. Now, your parents are coming this way. They are going to ask you what happened. If you become upset, will your mind to open and search for my thoughts. They will calm you. Do you understand, Jean?”

Jean panicked. “How am I to do that willingly? What really happened there, sir?”

Before he could answer, her mother and father pounced on her, hugging her so tightly Jean felt out of breath again. They started asking things maniacally, stroking her hair and her cheeks, telling her it was going to be okay, and Jean tried to reach out to the kind man, but her mine was blocked. It was in shock. It was then when she started to cry, cry for hours.

_'Hello, little firebird. I’ll keep an eye on you.’_

Jean never touched the Frisbee again. Her brother never called her a dog again.

* * *

Phoenix was proved to be just what she needed. After six months of depression and numbness, Phoenix decided to make her appearance.

After the accident, the ten-year-old girl started having panic attacks. She couldn’t stop hearing voices; she couldn’t make them stop. There was nowhere to hide. No tree to climb away from them, no bushes to hind behind, not even when she squeezed her small hands against her ears, nothing seemed to bother them. Her parents thought it was the after traumatic stress. Her siblings were scared of her. Or, in fact, scared _for_ her. She made them sad. She had to make a decision, so she isolated herself.

The voices where so many that she couldn’t even make out what they were saying. Inside her room, she tried occupying herself with books or puzzles, but in the end spent most of her time crying. She cried about Annie, about the irritating voices, about the fact that she couldn’t play with her brothers and sisters anymore. At school, the voices became more and stronger, but she could hush them while she paid attention to her subjects. At home, their intensity became lesser, but still there. None of the therapists helped.

After six months of internal battle, a new voice came to her rescue. Phoenix was friendly and supportive, and always helped her to put the other ones aside for a while. She helped her to sleep, listened to her for hours while the child was talking about school, her family, her dreams, and Annie. She was a calming companion when Jean cried, but she no longer cried as much as she used to. Jean was regaining control.

Everything was returning back to normal, when a knock on the Grey’s house changed Jean’s life once more.

Jean recognized his voice even before she had a chance to see him. She could feel his gentle presence in her house. But Jean was surprised when she saw him in a wheelchair. _Was he in a wheelchair back then? Was I so out of place to not even have noticed it?_

He was talking with her parents when Jean decided to join them. Her eyes locked directly in his, and a small smile played at her lips. The conversation interrupted momentarily, and Jean made herself comfortable on a couch right opposite the bald man. Her father was holding a brochure in his hands with a frown in his face, while her mother looked interested. The bald man was Professor Charles Xavier. When he introduced himself, the 10 year old felt a kind touch on her mind. He smiled reassuringly. Then her father spoke.

“Is this about her illness?” Something constricted inside Jean.

_‘Illness? ILLNESS? Why, the pathetic human-’_

Jean blinked.

“Illness?” Xavier raised an eyebrow. “You consider your daughter to be sick, don’t you Mr. Grey?” Charles’ voice had an edge to it that was impossible to ignore.

John Grey had the decency to look ashamed. Elaine glared at him.

“It’s just… I’m aware of all the mutant stuff but, why not think of all the possibilities? There are so many people who are mentally si- mentally challenged, and if Jean applies to this possibility, I want to be prepared. I want to save my little girl!” Mr. Grey’s voice became firmer with each word he uttered. Elaine was stiff beside him, looking straight at her daughter.

_‘Seriously, the nerve…’_

_I’m a mutant!_ Jean had so many questions, but willed herself silent when Professor answered.

Xavier’s voice had not lost its kind way in the slightest. “I assure you Mr. Grey, Mrs. Grey, that Jean is as much of a mutant as you are her biological parents. There is is absolutely no doubt.” He then turned to Jean. “The voices you hear belong to real people. You are a _telepath,_ Jean. A very powerful one. I just sense something else too, but am unable to figure it out yet. I wish for you to enroll at my school, for it is an academy for gifted individuals, students just like yourself-”

“Is this the harmless way to announce that you wish to take a child to a mental hospital?” Mr. Grey seemed exasperated. Elaine snapped and yelled at her husband, perhaps a little louder than intended.

“John, enough is ENOUGH!”

Jean felt heartbroken at her father’s continuing disbelief at her great potential. But someone inside her wouldn’t have it.

_‘If only Grey, if only… Jean… don’t feel-’_

Jean shut her eyes briefly as in pain, her hart beating loudly and a shiver went through her. Her discomfort seemed to go unnoticed, except… Charles turned his head to her for what seemed to be less than a second… She might have imagined it.

“Mr. Grey please, do you hear yourself? My _school_ is like any other, with the difference being in the student body and in some of the classes. With all due respect, all of my students are mutants. Eager children, full of life and curiosity, just like your own children. In addition to their daily courses, the students are taught to control and respect their powers, they are taught to love themselves. Not to look down on their abilities and think of themselves as sick.”

John Grey went mental. “How _dare_ you imply I am psychologically abusing my own child?! How _dare you?”_ He exploded. “All I want is to help her! She’s suffering because of this! My little girl was trembling and crying uncontrollably for six whole months, and all I wish is to make it stop for her! And if that entails her registration to a mental hospital to ensure her mental stability and happiness, then-”

Someone had enough. Jean was clearly upset, but she wasn’t that someone.

‘ _I will show him just how sick we are not, but what else we can be-’_

“Papa, stop!” Jean suddenly found herself shouting, unable to handle the harsh words anymore. She didn’t want to think of herself mad. She was just a little girl. All eyes turned to her. All except one pair, which was already glued to hers. With her corner of her eye she could see the unusually blank face of Professor Xavier watching her.

“Stop it at last! You’re making he- _me_ upset! I can’t stand it!” She decided now it was not a good time to refer to Phoenix as a separate entity. Not after everything that was revealed this morning. Not after _her_ dark and vengeful thoughts.

She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I want to go to that school. I want to learn to control it.”

‘ _With “it” I do hope you’re not referring to me, my child’_

“My _powers_ ” she clarified quickly, with a high voice as if she tried to be heard above loud music. "I wish to learn to use them properly. Please, I would like that.”

Her mother, oh her mother, looked lovingly at her. “I stand with my daughter. If Jean acknowledges the situation and is willing to act on it, then I’m with her.” She turned to glare at her husband. “She’s a mutant, John. A _homo superior._ Just because you can’t comprehend her new status doesn’t mean you don’t at least have to listen-”

John looked hurt. “Elaine please. She’s my child. I want to be sure. I’m not to witness her in any state as I did those hateful six months, ever again. I suggest, professor Xavier, that we see for ourselves this school you’re talking about. If our daughter is to live so far away from her family, I want to check this new environment that is to become her new stay.”

Charles inclined his head. “But of course. We can arrange any date you wish until the end of the summer. Classes start on September.” He then turned promptly to Jean. “How about we have a discussion about all that was said this fine morning? I’m sure you have questions.”

* * *

Of course, a therapist could not have been avoided. A therapist, though, that was well aware of the mutant population and its peculiarities. At 14, Jean was living a perfect, if not slightly weird, life. She was a top student, a powerful telepath with telekinesis, enjoying outdoor activities such as archery, a pursuit that Professor Xavier taught her. Charles was a father figure to her, a loving, patient mentor not just to her, but to all his students. She enjoyed his classes the most. She didn’t have many friends, not close ones, anyway. Just some acquaintances, but she was okay with that. She had her books, her classes, her archery, and… a particular firebird to burn off her energy. It was not something intolerable, but it needed attention. That’s why she was here.

She was no stranger to mental doctors. Doctor Laura Roberts was a tall, imposing woman, with blonde curls with a somewhat unsettling face. One that would turn from gentle and sweet to all of a sudden… disturbing. Jean knew she was professional; she didn’t pay attention to these moments anymore. She hadn’t noticed when Roberts’ face flinched, for the slightest of moments, at her latest declaration.

\---

_It was something she had never heard before. In all of her years tending to mutants, she had never been more scared in her whole life. Something was different with that girl. A telepath with voices that needed attention yes, that she could handle. When Xavier could not help her, she would gladly meet with the girl and begin their sessions. But this… this is not a part of her mutation. Hadn’t she said so herself? ‘She doesn’t feel right, not like an extension of me. And even if she is, I need to know how to handle this. She gets… dark sometimes. And it’s like that darkness increasing, but I’m always able to enervate it. I fear that someday, it will be turned into rage’. She kept and kept saying that, how she burned a bush on her anger one time, or how she once thought of sending one of her arrows straight to her classmates another time, just because the_ other _was upset again. But nothing serious, she rushed on adding. Nothing that wasn’t stopped before a second passed. But Laura wasn’t fooled. She witnessed first hand one of her inner battles with Phoenix, and she didn’t like what she saw. It seemed that every drug made her angrier. And that name…one that the voice itself chose to go by. Phoenix. A firebird that was reborn out of its own ashes. One that was able burn entire worlds…._

_Laura was deeply religious, and suspected that Phoenix was, indeed, not a mutation. As the sessions went by, she was certain that Phoenix was Satan. The very evil that was possessing the young mutant’s soul. And it needed to be destroyed._

_‘She talked once about power and fire and… destruction. But only one time! And that was because one student called me a name the other day. She reassured me it meant nothing. She would never hurt me or anyone else, especially the children’_

_Roberts flinched. That was the last straw. Laura fell on her knees in a final, silent pray, and then steeled herself for what was about to happen. She stood, closed her eyes for the briefest of moments, pocketed her knife and started walking with a purpose. It was two in the morning. It would be quick. She would be sleeping, hopefully she wouldn’t feel a thing. The girl was staying in the facility for the night, she had long waited for such an opportunity. She would save both the girl’s soul, and the people around her. She would end the evil._

_She walked down the hallway to the guests’ rooms whispering to herself that she was doing the right thing. The girl was already ruined, she wouldn’t allow the evil to prevail. She owed that to her God, to the students the girl surrounded herself with._

_The door to her room opened slowly, Laura’s hands were trembling uncontrollably. With her breathing already hard, she almost choked when she saw Jean was awake. Curled comfortably on the room’s chair, she was reading a book, as usual. But not usual to Laura. She froze on the spot when Jean raised her eyes to meet hers._

_“Doctor Roberts, is everything all right?” She smiled. Laura struggled to find her voice. She gagged._

_“Of- Of course, dear. J-just came to check on you. I may be your doctor, but I did make a promise to your professor to take care of you.” She was relived when she felt a smile tugging on her own lips as well._ Calm down _, she willed herself. “You are, after all, a special case.”_

_Jean smiled sadly, and looked at a spot ahead of her. “I am, aren’t I? Isn’t it always like that? It gets tiresome…”_

_“Now, why would you say that?” she asked softly. Laura had to keep a straight face and a steady voice. The girl before her wasn’t stupid, and, above all, she was a_ telepath. _Although she was quick to assure, she would never pry into her thoughts – something she kept true to her word -, she didn’t want to risk it. “I did not mean that unkindly, my girl. You are an exceptional human being, never doubt that. We have gone through that repeatedly. Don’t pull yourself into that pit again.” She took two steps closer to Jean._

_Jean shook her head, but still didn’t look at her. Laura began to nervously bite her bottom lip._

_“Tell me, Jean. Do you believe in God?”_

_At that, Jean furrowed her brow. She looked up at her with confusion. “You’ve never asked me such a thing before.”_

She hasn’t given me a straight answer. That is not good. _“Well, this isn’t one of our sessions now, is it? We can speak freely now. Although, I promise to let something dangerous slip; We will keep this professional.” She winked at her, smiling._

_Jean considered her for a moment. Laura thought her eyes were going to pop out if she didn’t answer soon. Luckily for her, she did._

_“I want to believe there is something good up there watching over us” she declared, and her eyes looked upwards. “A God, yes, a merciful one. A protective one. But we can’t always rely on him. There is darkness lingering too, I can feel it. I have felt it maybe more that I should have…” she trailed off._

_Laura shivered._ She’s talking about Phoenix, _she thought. She also decided that Jean gave the wrong answer, because now she was even more convinced as to what she should do._

_Jean again turned her gaze elsewhere. Distracted. Laura bit her tongue._

Abort the evil. _She kept saying. She stepped closer._

_“It is good, Jean. But we must practice good ourselves as well. We should not let the evil take over.” Another soft step._

Obliterate the evil.

_The teen aged girl muttered something she didn’t hear, but she chose to ignore it. She now stood behind her._

_“We must, under any circumstances, abort the evil within us and reach out to God, to pray for our souls. To seek forgiveness. Have you ever done that, my dear?”_

_Jean didn’t move. “I’m not much of a religious individual, miss Roberts. But I do pray for my soul lately.”_

_“I’m sure you do.” Laura said with a finality and raised the knife._

She felt the attack before she noticed Laura’s shadow. If she wasn’t so desperate to avoid the knife, she would thank the heavens for her homo superior reflects.The knife was driven straight into the armchair with a hideous thud, and Jean looked frantically at Laura’s face. It was disturbingly wild. Jean quickly fled the room and rushed for the stairs, taking them two at a time. Her trembling legs betrayed her, and she found herself fallen on her knees and hands at the bottom of the stairs. She instinctively turned her head to inspect the space behind her, and with horror she watched Laura taking the stairs like a demon, knife in hand, and muttering quick, incoherent things. Jean started yelling for help, even when she started running again.

She hit Laura with a strong wave of telekinesis which sent her to the opposite wall. She tried to reach for the doorknob, when she heard the air hissing and then a sting in her back and cried out in pain. She dropped on the floor face first, and heard quick steps approaching her. The knife was suddenly drawn out of her back, leaving an ugly red blood stain on Jean’s pajama top. Laura turned her over, leaned over her and Jean left yet another sob of pain. Something wild was stirring inside of her. She began trembling.

“Please” she begged. But not for Laura not to kill her. No, that wasn’t what she dreaded.

Unfortunately, Laura thought exactly that. She panted loudly, never tearing her eyes of Jean. “I’m going to save you, Jean. This is going to stop. I will extinguish the evil.”. She raised her knife once more. The young mutant was too shocked to act or to defend herself. She counted on it.

When she lowered the knife with force on Jean’s heart, she heard a loud _squick._ She almost fell over, and looked at her hand. The knife had transformed into a kid squishing toy. She looked incredulously at the toy, when she suddenly felt it. A violent stirring in the air, one that froze her blood and made her hairs rise. The girl underneath her whimpered, but she paid her no attention. She kept looking around her, when suddenly objects began to move. Two pillows from the nearby couch, the remote, a porcelain doll that her dear sister had gifted her when they were children and a pen suddenly circled Laura’s body in a strange way.

She then lowered her eyes to Jean, and for the first time in her life felt true terror. The eyes that looked back at her were not Jean’s eyes at all, no; This was the gaze of pure evil, and Laura struggled to move, to run and _hide._ But she couldn’t, an invisible force forced her still. A sound followed, and Laura looked away from the hideous face to witness the objects turn into _firearms._ A realization hit her. She had heard about them, but never saw one up close. _She’s a reality warper?_ It was the first time she met one. As she looked back down to the creature, she suspected it would be her last as well.

The creature, _Phoenix,_ spoke.

“She’s really sorry” but her words were empty, with no emotion at all. She didn’t smirk, she didn’t scowl, she didn’t mock her. She did no such thing, no.

She fired.

Five firearms along with two more that the creature had created out of thin air began to fire simultaneously, and the last thing Laura saw was a pair of yellow, blazing eyes staring back at her. With a final act of hatred, her now dead body erupted in flames, and the guns disappeared, returning to their original form. One should never underestimate the power of hatred.

Jean would not be accused of this crime. The mad woman was burned by her own cigarettes, drunk as she was. Jean was innocent.

But Charles, ever the perceptive one, began to worry.


End file.
